Road Trip With BFF in Which I Learn My Vagina is NOT a Wine Bottle


I love a good road trip with BFF…she is a fun passenger to have and quite entertaining as I am sure you can imagine.  The two of us can keep each other entertained for hours on end.  We have now driven twice to Disneyland and had a blast each time.  It seems that at some point in any road trip, the drive can get a little monotonous.  For us, this is the part of the drive in the Mojave desert from Needles to Barstow, CA.  Seriously, that must be the armpit of America.  Not only is this part of the drive boring, but there are literally NO places to go potty.  No rape stops…uh…I mean rest stops at all in between.  Herein lies the problem I encountered this time on our way to DL.

Last time when we drove through the Mojave, it was at night so the drive was not as boring because we could not see how boring it is I think.  Plus, we stopped in Needles to gas up and that helped right before we hit the armpit portion of the drive.  We won’t talk about the scary gas station restroom we used there and how we might have been afraid we might get murdered since it was like 10 pm and the door was broken.  If the guys working hadn’t been so nice, I might have been afraid they were gonna tie us up and take us to their hideout in the foothills of the desert where we would have starred in our personal horror movie of some sorts.  We vowed to never use that Murder station as a potty break again.  This time, we gassed up in Kingman, so we didn’t need to stop for gas in Needles.  Of course, this means we didn’t stop to potty either, maybe out of fear that we would not remember and hit the same Murder station or what, but we just kept going.  Of course, we had a cooler full of water and Gatorade and sodas which I decided was a great idea to down several of these on the way into the armpit portion of the drive.  No worries…Barstow can’t be that far, right?  WRONG.

Ever notice how when you REALLY have to pee that there is never a place to go and it occupies your entire mind?  A few miles can seem like torture.  I started feeling like I had to pee and of course trued to will it away seeing as how we were in the middle of the desert.  For those of you not aware, there are no bushes or trees to hide you on the side of the road when you drive through the desert.  There is nothing.  Literally.  I tried everything to ignore how bad I had to go.  I changed positions, moved the seatbelt, sang some songs, and attempted to not think about how full my bladder was getting every second.  I mean, there was no way I wanted to pee on the side of the road.  It was like a scene out of The Hills Have Eyes out there and I could see myself getting dragged away still peeing the entire time so the only way for someone to find me before I got turned into a dinner was a stream of pee that would dry up in the sun anyways.  I was doomed.  I needed to find a rape stop at this point.  For reals.  It was starting to get so desperate that I was looking ahead on the horizon for any signs of a gas station or an exit, thinking it couldn’t be that far.  I was squirming in my seat when BFF announces she also has to pee.  Dang it.  We should have stopped.  BFF states hers isn’t dire but I tell her mine is and she notices how visibly uncomfortable I am.  Then my kidneys started to hurt and I knew with my history that I had to stop…and soon….like NOW.  I told BFF I would have to stop and soon so she started looking as well.

Finally, I decided I could not wait any more.  I turned to BFF and said “Eff this.  I am pulling off and using the side of the road.”  BFF looked at me incredulously probably thinking that there was no way I could pull this off with no cover and that I might get dragged off to my doom into the desert as well.  I quickly scanned the horizon for another option and seeing nothing but desert and highway, I made my decision and seeing a widened area, I pulled off and grabbed some tissues.  I could see BFF still trying to figure out how this was gonna work when I opened the back door and waving at her through her window, I grabbed the handle of her door and yelled “Don’t look!”  to which of course she turned and yelled back “Well, now all I can do is look!”  Blocked by the back door to oncoming traffic, I dropped trow and proceeded to feel that sweet release as I made sure I didn’t pee on my shoes or pants due to al the rocks.  A wide stance is quite recommended in this situation in case you didn’t know.  Guys have it so easy.  They don’t have to worry about their pants or their shoes or flash their bare white ass to the oncoming semi truck drivers, thereby blinding them with its brightness and causing a traffic accident.  I swear I peed for like ten minutes and really felt like I only topped off my bladder enough to get me to the next rape stop to properly use a bathroom.

Climbing back in the car, BFF explains to me she is amazed I did that as she could never pee on the side of the road without peeing on herself.  Then this conversation happened as I drove off in search of a proper toilet:

Me:  “Pretty sure I didn’t even pee all that is in there cuz I still have to go.”

BFF:  “You peed for like ten minutes I swear.  I thought you had been dragged off into the desert and I was gonna die in the car.”

Me:  “It was like I pulled the cork on my bladder and it kept coming.”

BFF who looks at me quietly for a minute:  “Did you seriously just compare your vagina to a wine bottle?  Your vagina is not a wine bottle.  You cannot uncork it.”

Insert hysterical laughter and maybe some pee in our panties here.  I love her.  Best road companion on the planet.  You know you wanna take a road trip with us.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did discover that we should probably make a pee stop BEFORE we hit the armpit portion of our drive but I didn’t die.  I am the Fat Girl who learned her vagina is NOT a wine bottle Running.  The experiment continues….

5 thoughts on “Road Trip With BFF in Which I Learn My Vagina is NOT a Wine Bottle

  1. pscapp March 15, 2015 / 9:05 am

    I had to use a Murder Station once to go to the bathroom. We called
    it a ” Pee and Flee.”

    Like

      • pscapp March 15, 2015 / 9:24 am

        Yeah, go ahead – no charge. There was a Confederate Flag hanging behind the bar Three guys named Dean, Dean and Snake were the only customers. And this was in NE Pennsylvania. Well, southern NE Pennsylvania I guess.

        Like

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